


Elf

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen, Modern AU, Take Your Fandom to Work Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Spot gets a job selling Christmas ornaments.





	Elf

“We hired you because you look like a little elf,” the shop owner’s daughter informed Spot on his first day of work. Her name was Tracey, and she towered over him (both in terms of height and executive power), even though she was only two years older.

The shop in question was Deck the Boroughs, and it sold a vast assortment of New York themed Christmas kitsch. As for Spot, if he was an elf, he was a severely disgruntled one, in serious need of some cash.

“Nine dollars an hour,” Spot reminded himself, as Tracey set about training him. He learned how to price Christmas ornaments, and use a good calligraphy pen to inscribe them with names and messages that the customers dictated to him. The best part was being told to inscribe a pile of apple shaped baubles with the names of different New York boroughs; Brooklyn was very well represented. Just after lunch, an overly cheerful lady bought all of the six apples that Spot had written Manhattan upon, and Spot felt his soul melt.

“What made you think you was cut out for retail anyway?” Racetrack asked Spot at school the next day, after listening to a rant about all the stupid things that tourists liked to buy.

“I’m cut out for anything,” Spot retorted. “Maybe it’s that shop that ain’t cut out for me.”

Boots, who was sitting near them, tried to stifle a laugh. Jack did not.

“Whatever,” Spot said. “I’m moving up in the world, unlike you losers.”

Those words would come back to bite Spot in the ass over the next weeks, as somebody was bound to repeat them every time they caught him walking through the halls of the school and humming one of the carols that the shop played on repeat.

It didn’t matter. Spot Conlon practically ruled the school. He was practically a king, no matter where it was he’d happened to land a job. He had money, which he used to buy himself a gold tipped cane. He had skills, which he used to learn Jack and Racetrack’s secrets and inscribe them onto apple shaped Christmas ornaments, that he then hung inside of their lockers. Nobody messed with him much after that.


End file.
